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she was in radiated in the air around her, a blood-red aura. And the hunters outside of her home were a dead giveaway. David needed trouble like he needed a sharp stick in his eye. He did, however, want the woman like nothing and no one he had ever desired before. His body ached at the thought of touching her. Her verbal jabs danced in his head. Why couldn’t she have been insipid and boring when he finally talked to her instead of bright and witty? Insipid and boring could possibly be shrugged off and forgotten. The intelligence in those golden eyes haunted him. He eyed the Duke baseball cap lying on top of the neatly folded pink blanket. He had turned the heat off in his rooms a full thirty minutes ago, but there he sat, sweating, his body still aflame from touching her.
    Since when had he been sensible, anyhow? He rose and snatched up the blanket and cap. After a short stop to choose some items from a locked steel cabinet in his den, David grabbed his heavy parka and headed for the garage. There was only one place locals went for breakfast in Blowing Rock.

Chapter Six
    The glory of the morning was a breathtaking sight after the night’s snow. Blowing Rock had been transformed into a fantasy world of crystals and snow frosting, a welcome gift from the winter gods to the citizens of the town.
    Katie, however, was oblivious to the sights and sounds of the morning as she carefully worked her way down the freshly plowed road into town to one of the little side streets lined with quaint boutiques, cozy bookstores, and merry bars. She watched all the while for her stalkers, who she knew were there somewhere. She was nervous, and sexually frustrated to boot, so she had to fight to keep her eyes on the road. Maybe I should break down and buy a vibrator if my reaction to Naked-in-a-Snow bank-Sex-God is any indication of what years of on the run celibacy can do to a girl, she thought wryly.
    Locals guarded the secret that the Laughing Bear Café was open for breakfast on weekends like a hoarded jug of moonshine during Prohibition. The last thing any citizen of Blowing Rock wanted was to have to wait for two hours for a table in the only restaurant east of the Mississippi that could make a decent plate of huevos rancheros and a Cast Iron Bloody Mary. This Saturday morning, the place was full, but not packed to the rafters.
    A fire blazed in the fireplace, and even though it wasn’t yet ten thirty, there were already regulars crowded around the bar for brunch. Katie made her way toward one of the weathered wooden booths situated along the back wall of the restaurant. A bearded bear of a man with a shaggy mane of silver-tipped brown hair had managed to wedge himself into the red faux leather seat of a booth and was feasting from four different plates as he perused a huge book laid open on the other side of his repast.
    He roared at the sight of Katie’s approach and tried in vain to work his bulk out of his seat to greet her. “Katie, my princess! Come! Break your fast with a tired old man and allow him to rest his eyes upon your loveliness!”
    Katie winced as his penetrating voice cut through the ears of everyone in the restaurant, as well as the ears of passersby on the street. For a moment she wondered what had possessed her to leave Spain and seek refuge with her real father’s childhood friend, who was also her godfather. On the heels of the thought, she remembered why: Ambrose knew nothing about Frank, and she admitted, she desperately craved some semblance of family in her life.
    Frank Bearson was a mountain of a man who took no crap from anyone. He had welcomed her with open arms the morning she showed up on his doorstep. After listening to her tale with growing fury, he gave her a job at his restaurant, paid her in cash, and helped her to rent the secluded cabin without disclosing very much personal information. It enabled her for the first time in two years to be brave enough to use her own name. He wanted to take her